You make my world a better place
by mumf0rdandsons
Summary: What if Moriarty made John Watson commit suicide instead of Sherlock in order to get at him even more? And what if John knew it was coming and faked his own death? How would Sherlock feel if he was in the situation he left John in?


Sherlock had come up to the place he last saw John, he needed to be there, it helped him think. He was staring over the rail at the busy street below.

"Sherlock," John mouthed, terror and defeat coalescing in the pit of his stomach, he had been following Sherlock, his every move and he'd followed him up to the top of the hospital.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock says, and John nearly jumps out of his skin in surprise - until he realizes Sherlock is speaking into the empty air of the city.

_He can't know I'm here_, John thought, _it will cost his life_

"For what?" he whispered, his face softening as he looked at Sherlock's back, stared at the curly mess on top of his head, his bones visible at the elbow. "You're not going to do it. No. You're not."

"It's just… been tough, to do things anymore. Without you. And the world is difficult to handle without you. You made it easy, John," he sighs wistfully. "You made it less… noisy, in my head. And I became used to that feeling, so when you were gone…"

"I'm not gone, I'm here, I'm right here," he whispers, biting his lip, desperate to reveal himself.

"You were like an addiction, John, and the withdrawal has been more painful than I was expecting." His eyes slam shut. "I didn't see this coming. I should have noticed the signs. I should have seen it and done something, I should have noticed that you were suicidal but I was too wrapped up in my own little world. I just didn't imagine you would ever hurt yourself. And I never imagined you'd be the one to hurt me, too."

"I didn't commit suicide, Sherlock, I-," John choked on his words, eyes growing hot as he watches Sherlock stand unsteadily on the edge. He needed to reveal himself, he knew it, but he knew if he did it now, he would startle him; Sherlock would fall off the edge, in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry I was so awful to be around that you had to… do what you did. But, never fear, I won't make the same mistake twice. The world is better off without me, John. I just wish that- I just- I wish you could have known that you made my world a better place," he says awkwardly, his confession strange to his own ears.

John feels the sobs shake his shoulders; the hot paths of tears that scorch his face. "You made mine better, too. I never wanted to hurt you. I was selfish and hopeless and stupid and please, Sherlock, no, no. None of it was your fault. This world needs you; needs the light in your eyes when you find something out, needs your intelligence and your quirks alike, needs the stupid way in which you refuse to ever go shopping, needs you, everything about you, you're brilliant, Sherlock, you're beautiful," he shouts. "And I'm sorry for not revealing myself earlier, I'm sorry for making you feel like this."

He ran towards Sherlock, hugging him from the back, pulling him away from the edge.

"John?"

_No. It can't be. It is…?_

Sherlock turns around to see John standing uncertainly a few feet away, his face stained.

It is night, it is snowing, and John is alive.

_John is alive!_

Sherlock staggers forward, and stares openly and wondrously into John's confused face. "John," he breathes. He cannot quite believe it, but it's true. This is his second chance.

John takes a breath to say something but Sherlock doesn't care. He cuts off John's oxygen supply by slamming forward and crushing him in an embrace, and the pressing John's warm lips against his own. He makes a startled noise, but Sherlock feels his mouth curve into a smile.

When Sherlock pulls away, there's an amused edge to John's concern. "I never commit suicide, Sherlock, it was Moriarty, he made me, but I tricked him, I got the idea from you," he trails off, unsure, undisguised worry creasing between his eyebrows.

Sherlock smiles, looks up at the sky. _Thank you. __I've never believed in God but whatever-whoever is out there, y__ou saved me. __I don't know how to say it__,__ I have__ so much more he has to apologize for, so much more he has to fix. But, looking into __John__'s questioning face, __I suppose__ everything happens for a reason__.__John has his second chance too. _

His hand finds that of John's, who flushes through a dazzling array of surprise, embarrassment, and pleasure. "I will be," Sherlock says, and leans up for another kiss.

For the first time, he believes it.

"What happened to you?" John asks, bewildered at Sherlock actually showing emotion, showing humanity, but clearly pleased.

Sherlock's face grows serious. "I realized some things. That there are good and bad times, but all in all, we have a good life, John. A very good one. And I at least have you to thank for that. Don't you… don't ever doubt that you are the best thing to happen to me. I don't ever want to be in a world without you in it. You make my world a better place," he says simply, almost shyly, but the words are true and right.

This time, it is John who tilts his head up and kisses him.

"I love you Sherlock, you mental, strange, brilliant, fascinating man."


End file.
